Illusion is its Own Mask
by TheOneThatSeesGNS
Summary: Fairenilis Gaiander is a member of the Chirurgeon Order, a group of face sculptors based in the Summerset Isles. When her apprenticeship is complete, she travels to Cyrodiil. Over the years, she meets many notable figures, as well as not so notable. When a thief breaks into her home and meets a tragic end, her life enters a new chapter, outside of changing one's face for profit.
1. Chapter 1

**3E 364, 17th of Frostfall**

A golden silken dress on a mannequin, scrutinised by the tailor, a hand, equally as golden as the dress, on his chin, scratching at his neatly trimmed goatee, tan in colour. He turned to a box full of jewels and other valuable items, each organised into its own compartment, and he grabbed a few strings of pearls. He held the white coloured orbs, each the size of a pea, up to the fabric. He nodded approvingly, and set all but one string to the side, as he began to magically infuse the pearls to the dress, his hands glowing with magicka, the pearls permanently attached to the gold coloured garment. Once pearls lined the edges of the fabric, as well as bordering the change from the darker golden shade to a lighter, feather coloured shade. He grabbed a hand mirror before going back over to the box full of jewels. He grabbed multiple shades of blue from the box and held them up next to his eyes as he gazed into the mirror, criticising the colours until he gave a satisfied nod to the one that matched his own eye colour. Grabbing multiple, he clenched his hands around them, using magicka once more, only this time, to crush the gems into small shards, before arranging them into bejewelled flowers around the hem of the dress.

The finished dress, once on a mannequin, now fitted a young female Altmer, the silk perfectly fitted to her form. She looked over herself in the tall floor length mirror, admiring how the sapphires sparkled in the mage lights, identical in shade to her own eyes. The pearls, glistening like stars. She turned to the tailor, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she gave him a gentle smile, "it is perfect, Ata*," she complimented, her eyes roaming over the golden, silk dress once more. Said tailor nodded approvingly, "just as I had planned. I wouldn't have settled for anything less than what I made." He strode over to a small jewellery box, containing necklaces and amulets, rings, bracelets and arm bands, and decorative ear pieces as well as hair accessories. He plucked out an enchanted necklace, silver like a pearl, then he went back over to the elven maiden, and fastened it around her neck, "for confidence." he explained as she examined the beautiful necklace resting against her collarbone.

"Now, time for the ceremony. You mustn't be late. The Order would not approve, and would shame you, and your Lenya*. Now go," the tailor commanded, urging the maiden towards the door. Before she could reach the handle however, the door swung open, a tear stricken woman stood before them, her golden skin blotched pink from her emotions. "Eldroonyaran! My dress has ripped!" she shouted, stumbling into the store, her emerald coloured dress having a small tear in the sleeve, her arm held out to the tailor, Eldroonyaran, for him to examine. "I see. Go sit and I will repair it," he spoke to her, annoyed from her bursting into his quiet shop. He turned back to the maiden next to him, her face clearly showing her irritation at the woman pushing past her. His eyes narrowed as he gave her a stern look, which said, 'control your emotions, girl.' She saw and quickly looked away in shame, a mumbled apology coming from her.

In a circular hall, lit from mage lights, on floating platforms stood the Chirurgeon Order. Twenty talented Altmer, both male and female, stood, staring down at the eleven maiden from the tailor's shop. Her hands held neatly in front of herself, intertwined together. From the outside, she seemed almost completely calm, besides her eyes flitting to every face of the Order before her, out of nervousness and anticipation. Today, she'd be inducted into their order as an apprentice to her mother, her Lenya, the skilled Altmer of the name Angalinwae. Wife of the very tailor who had laboured over the dress the maiden now wore. Angalinwae, hair a very pale blond, which made her golden skin stand out, but her hair is also the exact same shade as the maiden down below. They were almost mirror images, if not for the difference in eye colour. Of course, their age difference is quite large, the maiden only being the tender young age of sixteen, while the far superior Lenya is at the age of three hundred and nine years.

"Fairenilis Gaiander," began the head member of the order, an old and wizened male Altmer, his silver hair slicked back. "You have past all of your tests required of a Chirurgeon member, and you are of the minimum age of when your training can begin. Even so, you cannot become a full member just yet. First, you will apprentice under Angalinwae Gaiander until you finish your full training. Then, once you have, you will be inducted into the order," he finished, his gaze moving from Fairenilis to Angalinwae, and once his eyes reached her, her circular platform began lowering back to the floor, where it fitted perfectly into the indentation in the floor, which is where the platforms remain when not needed for a member of the order. Once down, Angalinewae, gracefully stepped towards Fairen. She gave a slight nod, as well as a barely noticeable smile, then stood behind the younger elf, facing towards the order. Fairen, now more relaxed to have her Lenya behind her, stood a little straighter. The head member nodded approvingly, and bid them farewell, the ceremony over. Fairen turned towards her Lenya, who tilted her head in the direction of a hall to the side of the main room, and then went on her way to her work room, Fairen following close behind her. Her training has begun.

By the time the sun had set at eight, a whole twelve hours after the ceremony, Fairen had started learning how to make beauty products to assist in the art of face sculpting. While she continued practicing the few recipes she was given, her Lenya was on the other side of the room, gathering books for her to study, as well as a few busts sculpted into Altmer heads for her to practice the products she made on them. The busts are made out of artificial flesh, so if she had failed a beauty product, such as one that burns the delicate skin of faces, it will show on the bust, rather than having her test it out on someone, like the other scholars of the different races would. Practicality is a given trait to Altmer, and they all took pride in it. Along with the busts and books, an enchanted and very decorated crate sat on an end table, already full of beauty tools and ingredients, however the enchantment on the crate allowed it to make room for all things placed into it, so Angaline had no issues placing the many textbooks and busts into it.

 **3E 385, 2nd of First Seed**

Faienilis had completed her training, she's now as skilled as Angalinewae and most other members of the Chirurgeon Order. Now she is able to permanently change someone's features to however they desire, or even a simple temporary change, for a social gathering or a festival for example. Beside her, a few knapsacks, similarly enchanted like that crate so many years ago, were filled with all of her belongings and equipment. Today, she is leaving the Summerset Isles, of course she has left before then, journeying to Valenwood and Cyrodiil, but never further than that, and she hadn't traveled on her own before. She's leaving her birth country to start the Cyrodilic branch of her Order, to expand their grasp as well as to have a newer assortment of subjects. Of course they were always paid well, and some of the profits would be going back to the Order in Summerset, but most of it will be staying with Fairen. She had uses and need of all of that coinage, but first, she must get to Cyrodiil and set up shop. So, the long voyage from her island nation to the mainland must begin, and with that, she headed off to the main port where her ride awaited, her luggage floating behind her due to a telekinesis spell.

 **3E 385, 14th of Frostfall**

"Welcome to Anvil, Miss Gaiander. Need help with your luggage?" a crew member asked her, having flirted with her since the second day of the voyage. Fairen narrowed her eyes in annoyance, the damned Imperial would do anything if it meant he could get into her sheets, which she would never allow. Especially for a pig such as himself. "No, Josphf, I have my own means to assist me. Thank you," she smiled sweetly, while internally she grimaced. She had gotten quite good at hiding her true emotions over the years, many Altmer pride themselves on that, especially those in the Order. He deflated a little, disappointed at having his help be rejected, "have a nice trip Miss Gaiander," he dipped his head solemnly before he strode away to help his crew dock the ship. Which, didn't even take long as within ten minutes, the vessel was docked and a ramp was lowered to the docks where Fairen was finally able to have her feet on solid ground once more. Her emerald gown with purple embroidery flowed behind her as she strode into the city, her luggage once more following her. She'd stop for a meal, before catching a carriage to Skingrad, a pompous city of Cyrodiil where she knew her business would succeed with all of the nobles that dwelled within its walls.

Knowing exactly where to go in the bustling city of Anvil, Fairen made her way to the highest classed inn, which not only provided lodging for the night, or however long she decided to stay, but they even had a little eatery in the back, which is where Fairen is headed for a good meal, and this being a coastal city, she knew to expect a variety of different meals from different cultures, especially her favourite (seconded only to her own cultures meals) cultured food from Hammerfell, very spicy. When she entered, she saw the female owner of the Inn, a Redguard in her mid thirties, swaddling an infant to her breast. Walking over, she greeted her, "Evening, I'm looking for a room for the night and your finest dish from Hammerfell." Fairen, being taller than the woman, looked down, where she could see the infants small, light brown face. "What's his name?" she asked, making small talk with the woman while she grabbed the key to her room, "Wilbur, he just loves helping his momma deal with customers, don't you?" she cooed to the infant, his shrill giggles ringing through the air. Fairen inwardly cringed at the noise, not being very fond of children herself. The woman called to the back where, Fairen assumed, her husband is tending to other patrons and cooking food, she turned back to the Elf, "and to drink?"

"Honeyed wine is good," she replied, examining her key for which room she'd be staying in, "I'll be in my room, have him bring my meal and beverage to me, thank you," she politely, in her view, dismissed the proprietor as she headed up the stairs, her luggage still following her until she had them set down inside her room. She locked the door and sat in the padded wooden chair, and finally she was able to relax away from prying eyes, her form slumped, her facial features showing exhaustion and stress. It was absolutely not easy having to remain uptight at all times, even while she had slept! Of course, that was due to the fact there were no locks on the doors of the ship she had travelled on, but that didn't mean she didn't ward it… so she'd know if someone tried to enter. She is, after all, an Altmer, and the inferior men of the ship couldn't stop drooling over her. That, and she was the only female on board and she always made sure she looked her best, it is what she was raised to do after all. Even if it is for just the crew of dogs that'd just as much rut her as they would a tavern wench. 'Ugh…' she shook her head in disgust, her face crinkling up to show her displeasure at such an _idea_ of that even happening. She'd never go as low as being with a man nor woman from the lesser races of her own. No, she'd only be with a respectable Altmer like herself, like her parents had done. Both respectable, a gifted tailor, and a member of the Chirurgeon Order, which unless you had connections, you could _not_ get into.

Fairen quietly sighed in annoyance when she heard a knock at the door, so, straightening herself up and putting on a smile, she unlocked and opened the door, stepping aside so the male Redguard could place her order on the nightstand, "here ye are M'lady, anything else I can get you?" He grinned, happy to help another patron, that's why this inn was so high class, the service was great, which brought in more coin, and more luxury, for the patrons. "No thank you," she quietly thanked, placing a tip in his hand, "if ye need anything, call me or Ramara, my wife. I'm Junib, and I am at yer service M'lady," he nodded in farewell and left the room, Fairen closing and locking the door behind him. She turned and went over to the platter with a steaming bowl and a bottle of wine, she picked up the silver tray and carried it over to the table in the room and sat down, her stomach lightly rumbling from hunger as the scent of her food made its way to her nose. She examined the bowl, full of large chunks of chicken coated in a golden brown glaze, the rest surrounding it underneath, vegetable bits strewn about the glaze and meat, and just from looking and smelling the meal in front of her, she knew it'd be very savoury indeed. To the side of the bowl, she grabbed a fork and a knife, and started eating her amazing meal, taking sips of honeyed wine in a goblet she had poured for herself.

When the food was gone, and her stomach full, her mind the slightest bit clouded in a warm haze from the drink, she pulled out a map as well as notes and pointers of the city of Skingrad, of course she would not be in that city for a few days at the most, and she already knew much about the city due to previous studying of her notes, it never hurt to review before she got there, so she knew as well as any local where everything was, as well as the empty buildings she'd have her pick from. Preferably one near the other shops, but also one that stood out, that caught the passersby's eyes. That, and of course it'd need to be of reasonable price and very well maintained. She would not settle for some rundown, vermin infested shack, no she'd need an undamaged storefront that she could both run her business as well as live in for the time being. Plus, depending on which she buys, she may need to make arrangements for furniture to be delivered too…

 **3E 385, 20th of Frostfall**

She's done it. She purchased the best vacant building she could find, had furniture delivered, and had started setting up shop, such as a waiting room, an area where she could work on clients, and a storage room for all of her materials. Of course, she added her own touches to the drab interior as well, using a hefty amount of alteration magic to change it to mimic architecture of her home city, as well as permanent mage lights, and an enchantment on the windows to show the gorgeous scenery of the Summerset Isles. Truly, a store worth visiting. Now, time to make back the money she spent in setting this place up, and with that, she unlocked the door, and the business day began. She moved to the front window, flicked her fingers, golden light blooming from the tips, and the window turned a brilliant shade of yellow, signalling that the store is open. Right when she was behind the front desk, the door opened, a tinkling bell going off to signal the entry of a patron. Looking up, she saw a trio of Imperial women, adorned in lavish clothing, their usually, she assumes, pinched faces showing amazement as they gaze around, as it seems they have stepped into a small shop in the Summerset Isles. "Greetings Ladies, what can I do for you?" Fairen greeted, clasping her hands together on the top of the desk.

"I want the body I had back before I had to bear children to my husband," the middle woman, clearly in her late forties stepped forward, her rounded form exaggerated with the puffy red and teal dress she wore. Another woman, her blazing red hair pinned up in an elaborate bun, her face holding an airiness of snobbery held onto the first woman's arm, "how do we know it'll work? Is it permanent or temporary?" she asked, sickly sweet, her face showing innocent inquiry, her eyes say something else however. "It could be either permanent or temporary, depending on what you'd like, and depending on how drastic the request is, it will take more time, but something simple as this," she pauses her sentence, tapping her golden hair with a magicka charged fingertip, and her once golden hair changes to a deep brown, "can take seconds. Of course, then there's the cost, temporary is cheaper, even if it is more elaborate, it is less expensive than permanent changes. Permanent changes are more expensive, a minor change is about the same price as an elaborate temporary change, but the results are well worth the spending," Fairen grinned, tapping her hair once more and changing it to a bright silver, then her eyes changing from a deep sapphire to a brilliant ruby, before she reverts her eyes and hair to their original colours, she adds, "interested ladies?"

If the three women were amazed at the very idea, if a bit skeptical, they were absolutely speechless as their minds wrapped around the fact that it _is_ possible to change one's looks as simple as that. "I take it the three of you would like me to proceed?" Fairen asked, which the three women responded with nods and agreement. "Right this way ladies," she tilted her head to the back of the shop where privacy barriers were set up, and with a flick of her fingers, three different private cubicles set themselves up, "pick a room ladies, and I'll be right with you," and with that, she went to her storage room to gather her equipment and materials, as well as a piece of parchment, along with a quill and an ink well, to write down their desired procedures, then she'd decide which would be the quickest and start there. Setting her items down on the counter, she went into the first cubicle, the one with the heavyset woman with the red and teal dress. "Now, tell me everything you'd like me to do for you," Fairen stated politely, the nib of her quill ready to write. "I want my waist thin like a peasants, but my hips round and my girls perky. I also want all of those nasty stretch marks on my stomach gone like my husband's interest in me, and I want it done quick." the woman replied, her face is a disgusted sneer as she talked about her current body shape and the unfaithfulness of her husband. Alas, business is business, and opinions must be kept strictly to one's self to keep this a professional environment.

After several hours, well worth the time according to the three vastly different looking ladies, as they left the shop. As soon as they left, many more patrons had come in, wanting the same treatment as the women had, only to their own view of beauty, or grotesque appearances to scare one's in-laws away from the estate. Fairen had set up a log book of appointments, as there just weren't enough hours in the day to treat all of her customers. Of course, being put on a waitlist only deterred them slightly, as they very much planned on waiting for their time. By the time the business day had ended, Fairen was well due to a meal and some sleep, but first she had to organise the front, she had made an enormous amount of gold, and she needed to get it into the Imperial banking system in the morning, it wouldn't do well to leave all of her earned riches laying about the shop. She could tell that her luxurious life from her homeland would be well within her reach here in this city, and it would be for many decades to come. She had no doubt about that. So, with that, she finished shutting down the shop, securely locking away her earnings, before retiring to her living quarters above. Her Lenya and Ata would be proud to see her success on her first day. Of course, they expected nothing less, it still eases her to know she met their expectations.

 **3E 390, 22nd of Heartfire**

 _Fairenilis Gaiander,_

 _In half a decade you have proven yourself a valuable asset to the Chirurgeon Order, as evidence of the twenty-five percentage of your earnings shipped to the Order monthly. As such, the Chirurgeon Order has decided to award you an apprentice to assist in the growth of the Cyrodilic Branch of the Order. Galathil Dornsky, though not of Altmer heritage, has shown to be a gifted Bosmer, and shall arrive at your station in a week's time. She is of the age when training begins, so she will need the basic lessons taught to further her progress. On behalf of the Order, may prosperity be granted upon you._

 _Regards,_

 _Andinaro Silinaen, Head Member of the Chirurgeon Order_

The white, perfectly shaped parchment laid on the desk, the golden wax seal with the Order's symbol, broken. Fairen sat in her ornate leisure chair, a fine glass of wine in her hand. She didn't expect to receive an apprentice until much later, but the Order had different plans, so she clearly must have impressed them a great deal. That, or they wished to rid themselves of the Bosmer. One can never tell with the Order, as prosperous and regal as they are. With a sigh, Fairen stood up. She decided that if an apprentice is being sent to her, she might as well prepare a place, she still wanted privacy to herself, apprentice or not. Taking a final sip from her wine glass, letting the sweet, tangy taste be savoured and enjoyed, Fairen gathered a few magicka imbued scrolls, and set about constructing another room for her soon to be apprentice.

 **3E 390, 29th of Heartfire**

The day of the arrival of Fairen's apprentice came all too quickly. The crisp sea air of the Anvil docks permeated around her, as she waited for the ship with her soon to be apprentice aboard to finish docking. Resting on a bench, a book laid in Fairen's lap as she waited patiently for her Bosmer apprentice to step onto the docks. As time slipped by, and pages turned, her patience began to wear thin, as the ship docked, yet no Bosmer appeared. Becoming irritated, she snapped the book shut and strode over to the ship, and to where the captain sat perched on a barrel, his eyes gazing over the horizon. "Where is the Bosmer you are transporting?" Fairen let her annoyance leak into her tone, upset from being kept waiting. "Below deck." The captain gave a sloppy grin and a wink, and a seed of suspicion was planted and grew as she went down into the depths of the sea vessel. The suspicion intensified as she neared the barracks, as she could hear animalistic grunts and moans, as well as a dull thumping. Her face creased with annoyance as her sensitive ears picked up even the tiny sounds being made from the room. She, begrudgingly, knocked before entering, and her eyes and nose crinkled into disgust at the sight before her. Her soon to be apprentice is tangled up in two sailors, all as naked as the days they were born. 'Auri-El save me…' Fairen thought to herself as she shook her head, her hand pinching the bridge of her nose, "Would you two-" she stopped herself before she let the word 'pigs' slip out, "-men please remove yourselves from the Bosmer." she commanded loudly, the Bosmer freezing mid-coitus, but the two men only hesitated before continuing, looking over at the Altmer with winks, "dontcha worry yerself Darlin' we almost done wit' 'er." The larger man said between grunts, causing Fairen to scoff in disgust and turn on her heel, leaving the room with a slam of the door. 'Pigs.' She shook her head, the look of disgust remaining on her face as she went back up to the deck. The ship's captain guffawed at her look, which only made he scoff one more.

After quite a few minutes, a wobbly-legged Bosmer came up from below deck, her hair all ruffled, her cheeks and pointed ears tinted a dark shade of red. Definitely not a good impression on her new master, and the young apprentice could feel the irritation emitting off in waves from the stern faced Altmer woman. "I expected your behaviour to be more well-mannered for someone who wishes to learn the profession of the Order. I expected even more considering you're coming from the Isles. Have you learned nothing from the mandatory etiquette lessons? Or were you raised by savage barbarians that rut like animals in heat whenever you feel like it? Have you no restraint? No self-preservation? Must I teach you what a child must know? Or are you ready to act like an apprentice, or should I send you back for being an insolent child who doesn't know her place?" Fairen knew her words were harsh, that was her intent. How else must she teach a rambunctious apprentice but to be stern and harsh? After all, her harshness will pay off. Just look at her now, compared to her early years as a misbehaving child. Now, she has grace, purpose, and wealth, as well as respect. One cannot achieve all those at once without proper discipline. "You will address me as your Lady until your apprenticeship is complete. Until then, you will follow every instruction I give you, I have no qualms over shipping you back to the Isles if you displease me. Do I make myself clear?" her silent apprentice startled when she became expected to answer, and she nodded her head, "y-yes, my Lady, I understand, and I won't continue my…behaviour from before…" she quickly supplied as an answer, holding her breath, before releasing it and relaxing when Fairen gave a curt nod of approval at her answer, before turning on her heels, her gown and curled hair swishing as she did. "Come along now, we've dawdled here long enough, I want to make it back to Skingrad before nightfall."

An hour before nightfall, the door to Fairen's shop closed, two female Mer hung up their travelling cloaks, one with a fluid grace with the simple act, the other a little more fumbled about it. "I suppose I should show you around, the building is larger on the inside than the outside, thanks to Enchantments from the Isles. This room we are in is the sitting room for patrons awaiting their appointments," Fairen gestures around them, at the chairs and sofas, as well as book shelves full of books to pass the time, and platters on the small tables, empty of food for now, but during open hours, full of delectables and beverages to appease the waiting patrons. "Over there is where I will have you be until your training moves on to where you ought to be, you will assist the patrons and handle purchases of cosmetics. I will handle the prices of their procedures," she gestures to the counter against the wall, behind the counter, as well as the counter itself, were full of products behind glass. Fairen then led her to the back, a wall of cubicles, the entry way to each having a curtain drawn to the side, "this is where the procedures take place. You won't be having any dealings back here for quite some time, but in the case I am needed, it'd be good for you to know where I'd be. Now then, the tour of the shop is complete, it's time for the living quarters." She gestured with her hand to be followed, before making her way up the staircase and into her home for the past five years. "This is the main living area where you may spend your leisure hours if you so please," they step into an ornate room with seating, cabinets, and bookshelves, as well as food laden tables of fresh fruit and sweets, the bowls of fruits enchanted to keep them nice and chilled, the platters of the sweets enchanted to keep them warm, as if fresh from the oven.

The tour moved on from the living area to the bedrooms, but never entered Fairen's own room, it did lead to the Bosmer's room, where the luggage that was floating along behind them silently, was finally laid to rest at its destination. After that, they moved on to the kitchen, and through a storage closet that connected the kitchen to an alchemy chamber. Then, they moved on to the privy, which had a very advanced bathing system, thanks to the Summerset Isles technology and their need to have cleanliness over the other races. The last stop is the library, which wasn't too large, but it did have quite the assortment of reading materials, ranging from fictional stories, to history books, to magic tomes, to simple instruction books, and just about everything in between. The tour finished back in the main living area, "I trust you'll be able to find your way back to your room on your own. Now, for the delayed introductions, I am Fairenilis Gaiander, daughter of high Order member, Angalinewae Gaiander, and the fine luxury tailor, Eldroonyaran Gaiander." Fairen gave the slightest of curtsies, her rank being above her apprentice didn't require her to do much else. She raised a brow, waiting for the Bosmer to introduce herself, and several moments passed in tense silence, before she realised and quickly stammered out her introductions, "I am Galathil Clearspring, my Lady, my mother and father are humble workers in the profession of spell tome making. I am lucky to be inducted into the Order as an apprentice, I thank you for this opportunity," she curtsied lower, her head bowed in politeness. Fairen's mouth twitched slightly from suppressing a smile, at least the Bosmer, Galathil, knew some of her manners when talking to a superior.

"I welcome you Galathil."

Ata = father in Altmeris

Lenya = mother in Altmeris

The past tense is due to the events of this chapter being in the past, the next shall move on to present tense as the time will then be in the present, but some years will have passed since the welcoming of Galathil. If you didn't know, she's the face sculptor from the Ragged Flagon in Skyrim. My, how the mighty have fallen. Now you know what she meant by working in the finest of parlours for noble people before she had to work in the sewers of Riften. ^-^ hope this is received well.


	2. Chapter 2

**3E 414, 1st of Midyear**

I open my eyes, my neck stiff, as well as my shoulders and spine. I let out a silent yawn as I stretch, my joints cracking, some areas feeling less stiff now. With a wave of my hand, a green aura of calm washes over me, and I sigh in content. I must've fallen asleep during paperwork, my mage lights are dim. I waved my hand at them, brightening them to their usual state, so I could organise my paperwork properly, everything must be in the right place or else everything will become confusing, not only for me, but also for the items meant to be shipped off to different associations. After I had everything in its proper place, I stood up and pushed the cushioned velvet chair in, the seat tucked away under my desk. I walked out of the room, my hand waving absentmindedly as the mage lights in my study dim, before flickering out. A crate of beauty products on one of the ornately carved tables against the wall in the main sitting area catches my eye, and I sigh in irritation. Of course Galathil forgot to put her supplies away again. I really ought to figure out how to teach her a lesson so she won't forget to be organised. Maybe due away with a favoured object so she must organise… I shrugged to myself, the crate cradled to my side, my arm holding it while my hip balanced it, making my descent down the stairs easier, my free hand flicking sleeping mage lights to life, illuminating my way to the storage room.

A shuffling, previously unnoticeable, became more prominent as my descent came near its end, my feet stopping a few steps from the main floor. Galathil would not be up this late, nor would she be moving about in the dark. Quietly, I set the crate down on the steps, and I cast a spell to muffle myself. With another flick of my hand, once my movements were silenced, I cast detect life, first looking up, and with the confirmation of the illuminated form of Galathil in her room, presumably asleep given that her form is laid on its side rather than upright, before looking into the main shop area. Illuminated in the back, hunched over and crouched by the locked door leading to the storage cellar. My eyes narrow in distaste, a _thief_? In _my_ shop? That would not do at all. With a calm fury, I strode silently towards the cellar, not bothering to turn on the rest of the mage lights, I knew my way. Hearing a click, and irritated mumbling from the thief, I assume they failed once more with their attempt to unlock the door. I quickly placed a hand on their shoulder, the paralytic spell leaving my finger tips, and shooting into their body. Their legs stiffened and gave out beneath them. With the thief, a man, (given his surprised yelp, when he went from a crouching position to laying on the floor, his legs unable to move, in a matter of seconds.) laying on the floor, his eyes wide with fear, stared up at me. Realising he could still move his upper half, he sat up and quickly scooted back and away from me, his legs dragging awkwardly with him.

"You are in my shop, why?" I ask the thief, my voice layered in ice, my eyes just as cold. He stammers, but I can't make out what he's saying. Not that I care. He broke into my shop, and he is attempting to steal from me. I cannot let that slide. And I won't. With a flick of my fingers, his useless stammering ceases as a silence spell washes over him. His hands fly up to his mouth and throat, his desperate attempts at a noise futile. Maybe I should turn him over to the guards… the thought briefly crosses my mind, before I brush it off with a mental shake of my head. Why should I allow him to be released after a sentencing? It is idiotic to do so, a thief will always take what isn't theirs, so the only way to eliminate the threat of further break-ins, besides enhancing locks (that is a given) is to eliminate the source of the threat. Such as, getting rid of the source. Permanently. Coming to a decision, the thief none the wiser as it happened in less than a minute, I reached out, touching the shin of the thief, so the paralytic spell may be enhanced, the spell spreading up further. Deeper as well. The blood flow in his veins, stop in their tracks, his organs, stop their duties, then his heart, stops beating. The spell flows up, and into his mind, slowly stilling his thoughts, before his eyes, once full of fear, stared blankly and unseeing. Knowing I can't just dump the body, I must erase it from existence. No one will miss a lowly thief. Concentrating, I closed my eyes, my thoughts roving over my mind, thinking of a spell that can transform matter into ash. My eyes open once I find the spell I'm looking for, and I charge the ball of blue green energy between my hands. Then, I release it towards the corpse, watching as every part, the filthy leather of his clothing, to the hair, and everything in-between, disintegrate before my eyes. A pile of ash remained, as well as multiple golden coins and some jewels, no doubt stolen.

I huff in annoyance, after cleaning up the ash and dust, and disposing of it, as well as placing Galathil's items into the storage room, my shoulders and back ached with irritation, and I could feel a dreadful headache coming on. Idly, I wonder, does everyone try to purposefully annoy me? If so, I do not approve. Not that I'd approve if they didn't intentionally try, as they do still annoy me, but some things can't be helped from lesser races. You never see an Altmer being annoyed by another Altmer, unless they are… tainted in some way. Impurities in the blood, warped views and beliefs, that sort of thing. I shiver, goosebumps raising along my skin. A draft? Damn thief must've broken the door worse than I feared… a prickling sensation crawled up from my spine, to the nape of my neck. A sharp pang went through my skull, making me wince. It'll have to wait until the morning, I've dealt with enough this night as it is. Extinguishing the mage lights as I went, I make a quick brew of herbal tea, the scent alone soothing me. My hands, imbued with a very mild flame spell, more of a heat spell really, heated the liquid to the perfect temperature, soothing, yet not harmful. Taking a sip, I sighed through my nose in content. I quickly finish me tea, as I'm quite tired, not to mention the warmth of the beverage is making my eyelids heavier. Thankfully, my headache has faded.

 **3E 414, 6th of Midyear**

My eyes open groggily, and I sigh and close them again, turning over onto my side. My feet poke out from under my covers, and I immediately jerk them back under the safety of the warmth, it is absolutely freezing in my room. Must be what woke me up… annoying. Steeling myself to the discomfort of the cold, I begrudgingly get out of my warm and very comfy bed. Slipping on my wool slippers, I trudge over to the window, closing it as the breeze plays with my silk curtains. Just as I'm about to pull the covers back over me and lay back down, a smooth male's voice stops me. "Going to sleep so soon? I thought we'd have a talk, you and I." I startle, my legs tangling in my blankets as I quickly scoot myself against the headboard of my bed. "Who's there?" I demand, not liking how startled I had gotten, by another damnable thief no less. Why must they be targeting my shop now? At the end of my bed, a figure, the man who spoke before, his eyes glowing an orangish red in the dark. I flinched and squinted my eyes as a red orbed magelight illuminated and floated up from a pale and gaunt looking hand. "I am Vicente Valtieri, Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood. You may be wondering why a creature of the night such as myself has entered your room," a startled look must have crossed my face, for he gave a fang-showing grin, "Yes, I am a vampire as well as an assassin. I haven't come here to harm you of course, unless perhaps my invitation to invite you to join the family is rejected. Sithis and his unholy bride, the Night Mother, have seen the deed you committed, just a few nights before now, and they wish to allow you into our dark family."

Out of curiosity for his stupidity for revealing so much to me, I ask, "Why are you telling me all of these things? What makes you think I'd join you to be a lowly assassin? You don't know if I could go to the guards as soon as you leave." His face broke out into a grin, a sinister aura coming off of him, "what made you think you had a choice on whether to join or not, my dear? There's only two options for you, join the family, as you are quite an asset, even if you don't participate with contracts. Or, you could join Sithis in the Void. Your choice really, it would be such a shame for you to choose the latter option however, so please do consider wisely." Silence followed after his words, his red magelight hovering above his head still, not improving the tense atmosphere. I should've known his reasoning for telling me so much, what kept him from killing me if I refused the offer? Nothing. I doubt anyone saw him enter my room, much less even entering the city. I suppose it couldn't hurt too badly. For me, I hope. That would be rather disappointing if I accept, and then I'm harmed myself, rather than others being harmed. Coming to a decision, rather reluctantly seeing as I was given a not so subtle death threat less than a minute ago, and I'm rather fond of living, I'm not ready to join my ancestors just yet. "Very well, I'll join your damnable family." I reply, disgruntled. He smiled, "Excellent, I thought you would. Now, in order to properly join our dark family, you must sign in blood. Not your blood of course, no, you will sign with the blood of a Breton. Her name is Sabrnette Thiech, and you'll find her in the city of Kvatch. I'm sure you can figure out where she is exactly, you seem to be an intelligent young woman."

 **3E 414, 17th of Midyear**

Kvatch is a nice city. Smaller than Skingrad, more crowded, more beggars, but it was nice. In its own way. It was no where near great like the cities in the Isles, but it's a necessary conflict for expanding the reaches of the Order. Due to my current business here, I regrettably had to wear unappealing attire in order to blend in. Thankfully, I was not the only Altmer, so I wouldn't stand out too much. Even so, this damnable shirt, though a nice shade of green that complimented my skin tone, was scratchy. My skirts, a nice tanned brown, were thankfully comfortable. My attire isn't the only change I had to make to blend in, my years in Cyrodiil has made me quite a notable figure. I mean, how often does a face sculptor appear in the lands of man? Exactly, I am the only one in Cyrodiil besides my apprentice. My hair, usually down to my shoulder blades and a honeyed blonde, now cropped short and white, my eyes a dull green, and my nose a bit larger to my liking, and hooked. The necessary sacrifices to keep my identity free of incrimination, even if I have to make myself look horrid. My lips are way too thick to my liking, thinner lips allow my expression to be less readable, from what I've gathered. Even my eyebrows, usually neat and trimmed, were thick and untamed, of course I wouldn't lower myself to a monobrow, this is still rather embarrassing. At least no one will recognise me. Now, I need to stop dawdling and fussing over my looks, regrettably, and search for this damned Breton woman so I can go home and wait for the blasted vampire. He hardly gave me any information, all he did was give a name, the city, and the murder weapon I must use. Ridiculous he wouldn't let me use my magic, after all, I could have just summoned a dagger, kill the woman, dispel the weapon, and no incriminating evidence against me, if I'm careful with the blood splatter. Even if it were to get on my attire, I brought a change of clothing so if that were to happen, I'd be prepared, and a simple flame spell would do away with the evidence covered material.

The inn smelt of urine, alcohol, tobacco smoke, and a whole list of unsavoury stenches that came with a busy establishment full of people. Alas, it is a good place to start to find the damned woman who would secure me my life. I found it rather annoying that I, a very well off woman who cared for herself - can't say too many do, they weren't born with superior traits unfortunately… - had to perform this dreadful task just to appease a blasted vampire, who not only broke into my sleeping quarters, but also threatened my life. It is not my fault I had to dispose of a damnable thief who had broken into my establishment. Certainly not. Now sitting at a rickety old barstool - which smelt of sweat and alcohol - I request a simple drink of flavoured water. The bartender, an elderly female Bosmer set a glass in front of me. "Anything else for you, Miss?" Her voice hoarse, yet loud enough over the sound of the crowd, she must yell a lot. Deciding now is the time to ask about the Breton, I smile meekly and nod, seeming timid. "I'm looking for a woman, I found something of her's and I'd like to return it, only… I don't know who she is or where she is besides that she's here in Kvatch. I do know her name if that'll help…?" I finish shyly, waiting to see if my explanation were to be believed. I certainly looked the part of an innocent bystander with no ill intentions, and I hoped I acted too, after all, this is the most deviant thing I've ever done. What I did to the thief was justice taken into my own hands.

The Bosmer gave an irritated sigh and set the glass she was wiping, as well as the cloth, down. "Take it to the guard. I have enough on my hands dealing with this bunch, I don't have the time to go helping every traveller with their needs. I can give you food, a strong drink, or a bed. Don't want any of those, get out." She finished with another, yet more weary, sigh before she moved on to the next patron. I finish my glass, the tang of strawberry flavoured water soothing some of my irritation from being refused information. I leave a measly tip on the bar before taking my leave of the piss-smelling establishment. Inhaling deeply, the fresh air clearing my lungs and nose of the foul smell, I start my search for a guard, whom of which I dread dealing with as me asking for the damn Breton to a guard could arouse suspicions that I caused her death. I will, to preserve my own life, but they mustn't know that. I blink, and refocus on my task, it is rather irritating to be so distracted. I blame it on my current predicament, one will always be lost in their thoughts if they had to go through this sort of thing. Alas, I've done it again. Look for a guard, look for a guard. In the distance, patrolling down the street near some shops, a guard clad in the typical legion armour, only instead of the dull grey, it is a bright silver and gold. Must be of a higher rank… I stop in front of him, my hands fiddling with my skirts as I meekly make eye contact, keeping up the act of a harmless citizen. "Excuse me, Sir…? I'm looking for a miss Sabrnette Thiech. Do you know where I could find her?" I look away, seemingly afraid to hold eye contact any longer. "Sabrnette? I know of her, she lives near the chapel. Be careful dealing with her ma'am, she chooses the company of unsavoury types. Now, excuse me, I must continue my rounds. Blessings of Stendarr upon you in your dealings with her."

Unfavourable could have meant many things. She could have been with minor trouble makers, drug dealers - though I doubted Kvatch had an issue with Skooma and Moonsugar, not enough Khajiit or Dunmer to cause that - or they could have been petty thieves. Instead of any of those possibilities, it turns out she is a part of a crowd looking to begin a brothel, and she happened to be one of the women who intended to give services. Rather disgusting really, anyone who lowers themselves to such a position is well… unimportant and won't be missed. Which, thankfully helps myself, but it also makes it difficult. The difficult part being, how do I get her alone without lowering myself to disgraceful standards? I can't simply request services to get her alone, I do still have my dignity, even if I never actually receive or participate in the request. I couldn't offer to join either, that would be even worse than the former idea. Plus, with her being a part o this crowd, I doubt I could lure her away, asking for help. Perhaps I must wait, which isn't entirely agreeable since I would rather have this over and done with. If I were barbaric and with no sense of self preservation, I could just rush forward, do the deed, and be done with it. However, there's too many consequences doing that, besides the fact that I'm not barbaric and I do have a sense of preserving myself. That's the whole reason I'm here in the first place, to make sure I don't die myself. So the waiting will begin. I shall keep my distance, as I don't want to be near the fil- the unsavoury types, as I don't want them pestering me to have some 'fun' with them. Resting down against a stone building, I decided to put on the role of a beggar. No one pays them any mind after all. Reluctantly, I wipe some dirt and grime onto my face and arms, grimacing at the feel of the filth. I wipe my hands onto my skirts, the light brown becoming smudged with dark stains from the grime. I certainly looked like a beggar now, no longer just some poor commoner.

Hours tick by slowly, some shady looking people occasionally approach the group of aspiring harlots, taking them up on their offers and leaving to do the deed. However, every person that approached the woman I await to be alone, she rejects them. Rather odd in my opinion. I have no idea why. A finely dressed Orsimer - such a strange sight! - starts to approach Sabrnette, and actually, this surprises me greatly, they embrace, and then leave together. I wait a few seconds before I slowly rise and begin following them in pursuit. Who knew this would be the outcome? I surely didn't. They slip into a vacant alleyway, and I frown in disgust when I realise the alley leads no where but to a stone wall. I crouch to the wall beside a crate, my knees resting on the packed dirt of the ground, I peer around the crate, and grimace in disgust. The Orsimer has the Breton pressed very lewdly against the wall, their mouths entangled in an awkward looking kiss. I quickly move my head back, my gaze focusing on the stone wall of the building across from me. Then, the noises of the pair start, and I stifle a scoff of disgust. Silently, I cast a spell of muffling on my ears, thankful that I no longer have to listen to the disturbing act happening just a short distance away from myself. I'll never understand why someone would lower themselves to commit the act of sex. I myself have never done so, as not only would it be rather surprising that there was actually someone worthy enough, but I do not wish children. I suppose that's the only real reason to participate in the deed. I cast a very weak, and very simple, detect life spell in the direction of the pair, weak so it would only show their life forms, and very simple so it did not annunciate their forms. Two blurred figures, shaded in blue - I am advanced enough to choose the colour of spells such as this, I am no mere novice after all - still stood against the wall, very close to one another. That's all I can see thankfully, the whole reason why I did such a simple spell.

Before I even realise they are done, the Orsimer walks past me and back into the main streets of the city. Alone. His appearance is a little disheveled however… nasty. I dispel the spell of muffling and recast the spell of life detection. Sabrnette, no longer standing, but still in the same area, remained. She seems to be sitting. Probably cleaning the filth from herself. Even so, this is a perfect opportunity. She was seen leaving with an Orsimer into the alley, and said Orsimer was seen leaving alone. Not only shall I do this in a secluded area, but I also have somewhere to point the blame. Standing, I slowly make my way over to the Breton. "Go away you damned beggar, I have no coin for you," she snaps, sparing me but a glance before going back to cleansing herself. She really had no dignity. I catch myself, as I start to bristle in irritation and anger, but I remember that I am in the guise of a beggar. Her reaction is accurate. "Sorry Miss… but I have something of yours," I say as I step forward, she looks up in intrigue and suspicion. She opens her mouth to reply, but before she can manage, I cast a silence spell, and her words shrivel in her throat. Her eyes widen as her hands fly up to her throat. Within a split second, her expression changes to one of rage, she prepares to strike me, but the blade I was given beats her to it. Although I am not skilled with a blade, I still know enough basic anatomy to know where to strike, comes with knowing restorative spells. The blade meets in her chest, where her heart is, and her arm falters, in the air ready to strike me, but it falls to her chest, as she attempts to pull the dagger, but pain, as well as her life fading, doesn't allow her to succeed. I leave the blade in, as it keeps blood from gushing out and onto my person. I mustn't be a suspect after all. Plus, the knife I was given is rather ornate, so it matches the look of the well dressed Orsimer. Now to go find a guard and be on my way.

 **3E 414, 19th of Midyear**

I turn the water tap off - yes, Skingrad is civilised enough to have enchanted bathing rooms for the upperclass so I am able to take a bath with ease, which is very much needed - and I sink into the delightfully hot water, lilac scented bubbles covering the exposed skin of my arms, shoulders, and all the way up to my neck. After two days of travel, I deserved this relaxation. Not to mention, it also allows me to think more deeply into my thoughts than when I'm on the road. I start washing myself, absentmindedly paying attention. My looks had already been reverted back to my original self, thankfully, as I could not stand to walk around looking as I did. Something I've found odd, no, strange, yes. Very strange indeed, is that… I feel nothing for the death of another by my hand. I should be upset that I had committed the deed, but I'm not. I mean, it really did not harm myself in anyway, nor did it compromise my standing reputation. I am after all, still Fairenilis Gaiander, daughter of Eldroonyaran Gaiander and Angalinewae Gaiander, and I am a high standing member of the Chirurgeon Order of the Summerset Isles. Nothing has changed… and yet, I feel it should have. But what has not harmed me should not be worried over. Unless of course, I somehow get caught, which is unlikely as, though new I am, I know how to be subtle. The vampire, Vicente Valtieri, comes to mind. I suppose I still have to await his damnable return too. Which reminds me, I should do some research into the Dark Brotherhood, the Night Mother, and Sithis. It would do me some good to be in the know of the situation I have landed in, rather than to stumble around blindly and hope answers come to me. I can't just simply ask around, nor can I go to a bookstore to purchase the books. Perhaps the Arcane University has some tomes on the subjects? Plus, I've been meaning to visit. It has been ages since I last went, and not only would I get information, perhaps I could learn a few new spells. I do have some time to commit to learning more. I want to keep my mind strong and capable, especially during what I must go through. I should also read up on vampires. Knowing their behaviours and such would be very helpful, if I must continue dealing with him. Throughly washed, and noticing that my skin is starting to prune, I wash the bubbles off of me, the tub draining as I towel myself off. I exit the bathing room and into my room - yes, they are connected, I am civilised after all - I begin my nightly routine, content to be back home and well. Now all I had to do was prepare for another visit from a dark fiend and research on matters I, regrettably, know little about.

Note: sooo… I do not have a set schedule at updating, I write when I feel like it (and have motivation) so… heh… also, yes I know, Fairen seems to be a bitch, which is why I put her inner dialogue in a lot, so you can see exactly what she's thinking. She won't ALWAYS be like that. Maybe… also, this story (hopefully) will continue into the events of Skyrim, right now it's before the Oblivion Crisis. I might do it in one fanfic, I might do it in two. Also, Tis surprising that the measly prologue got good feedback X3 this chapter is 500 words short, but I didn't know what else to put… it was dragging on and needed to close. Sooo, the next chapter will be out on *insert when I next update here*


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